


Comfort and Joy

by eadunne2



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Banter, Canon Universe, First Kiss, Fluff, Holidays, Kissing, Light Angst, Loneliness, M/M, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, smartass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8971138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eadunne2/pseuds/eadunne2
Summary: For a moment, Mike’s too surprised to understand, but he relaxes into the embrace. It’s sweet and rare, and Mike’s learned to savor these, hoard them for later. He exhales more tension than he’d been aware of at the feel of Harvey’s cheek against his own, but still. A Christmas gift, just a taste, maybe enough to hold onto and then - Harvey presses his lips to Mike’s temple, and Mike makes this raw, cramped sound into the front of Harvey’s peacoat. A warm hand comes up to cup the back of his head.“Oh, kid,” Harvey says softly. Mike sniffs hard and tries to anticipate whatever jab is coming next. “What’re you gonna do with me, huh?” But Harvey just squeezes him a little tighter. “Idiot. That plan’s never changed. I'm gonna keep you.”Mike breaks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For Marvey Fic Recs Challenge #64 - Tidings Of Comfort and Joy (MFC Christmas Edition)

Mike grunts through a mouthful of marker caps at the file that just flew onto his desk, and Harvey sighs, supremely put upon. 

“Oh Michael. Full of poise and grace.”

He drops the caps on his desk and swivels to grin up at Harvey. “So I’ve been told.”

“Done with the transcripts?” 

“Yesterday, baby.” Mike fishes the file from beneath a stack of haphazardly balanced documents. “And by yesterday, I mean,” he checks his watch. “Twelve minutes ago.”

Harvey’s voice is dry, but there’s a hint of pride, or maybe Mike’s succumbed to exhaustion and wishful thinking. “Impressive.”

“Thank you.” 

“Think you can have this one done by end of day?”

Mike flips the file open and scans the documents rapidly. “If not tonight, I’ll have it first thing tomorrow morning.”

Harvey’s lip twitches inward like he’s thinking about nipping it thoughtfully, but then his mouth stills, too well trained for nervous tics. “It can wait.”

“No worries, dude. I got it.”

The fact that Harvey doesn’t call him on the ‘dude’ is the first clue he’s worried about Mike.

It’s discouraging, really. Up until that point Mike was certain he’d been keeping up appearances. Sure he’s barely sleeping, eating is a joke, and he’s using busy work in the exact way he’d used pot not so many years ago, but no one else has said anything. 

Fuck holiday spirit, screw comfort and joy. Leave it to Harvey to notice exactly what he’s trying to hide.

But maybe not exactly. Not yet. There’s no way he could know, really. Maybe Mike has a cold, or is rushing to get his work done before the holidays. There’s still a chance he might be able to keep his head down until this wave blows over and his ability to compartmentalize returns. He can handle it.

“You look like ass,” Louis says the next day, blandly, like he’s commenting on the weather. 

“Why thank you, Louis. Nice to see you, too.”

“Your eye bags have eye bags.”

“My -” he splutters. “Goddamnit Louis, your -”

“Mike!” Donna declares too loudly, grabbing him sharply by the arm bone and dragging him away. “Just the man I was looking for. Harvey needs you.”

“Ow! Donna - what- ? You know we have cell phones for this very purpose...”

“I texted you twice to come up, and you cannot shit all over Louis just because you’re losing your damn mind.”

“Ok, first of all, shitting on Louis is a major league sport for you -”

“I can get away with it,” she sniffs.

“Secondly, I am not losing my mind. I’ve finished twice the content I usually get through, researched a goddamn golf outing for Rachel - like I know fuck-all about that, and I didn’t forget your coffee once this week!”

Her gaze softens as she relinquishes his arm outside Harvey’s office. “Baby boy, if it were anyone but us, you’d be very convincing.”

“Harvey doesn’t know shit,” Mike grumps, and Donna shrugs. 

“Not like I do, but he knows something’s wrong.” Most days Mike’d kill for Harvey to notice him. But this time...

“Nothing’s wrong!”

“Ok,” she sighs, and hands him a Redbull. “Suit yourself.” 

Harvey never looks anything less that exquisite, but he’s looking significantly less pressed than usual today - no jacket, sleeves rolled, at least two buttons undone. Mike has to take a second to appreciate the way the sun is dancing into the cut of his jawline before he shakes his head and asks, “No tie?”

“Lesser men need ties to sell their appearance,” Harvey mumbles at the sprawl of documents on the coffee table. “I however -”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a beautiful princess. Wanna tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Harvey finally looks up at him, one brow quirked in a way that might mean he’s pissed, but might be amusement, too. “That mouth is going to get you in trouble some day.”

Mike bites back the ‘Promise?’ and instead breezes in to plop down next to him on the couch. “I’ll save you a seat in hell. Now what is this?”

Harvey slumps back, rubbing his eyes. “Martha Stewart.”

Mike blinks. “Beg pardon?” 

“It’s like Martha Stewart.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“She sold two hundred and thirty thousand dollars worth of stock in a company she knew was going to collapse -”

“You think that’s what happened here?”

“Welcome to the party, puppy. Yeah, I do.”

“But you can’t prove it.”

“I can,” he clarifies, then testily adds, “I just haven’t. Yet.”

“Mm-hm,” Mike murmurs, relieved to have something to occupy his mind. He cracks open the Redbull and shrugs off his suit jacket. “Where do we start?”

\--

“Your balls make weird reflections on the ceiling.”

“I have so many responses to that statement I’m actually rendered speechless.”

Mike snorts into the carpet. “No, the glass cases with the - you know what, you know exactly what I’m talking about. And you’ve never been speechless a day in your life.”

From his perch on the windowsill, Harvey lobs some crumpled paper in Mike's direction, smacking him in the forehead. “Quit thinking about my balls and get to work.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” As he’s dragging himself back to the couch his stomach makes an obnoxious noise around the steady diet of Air and Redbull he’s been feeding it. It’s nothing new though, so he ignores it and Harvey, who’s now shuffling around his disaster zone of a desk.

“The daughter,” Mike says sometime later, and Harvey waves a dismissive hand. 

“We deposed her. Knew nothing about it.”

“You believe her?” 

“I do.”

“Then why was she calling him the day before?” 

“A lunchtime call from his daughter isn’t going to be enough to establish reasonable doubt.”

“It wasn’t lunchtime.”

“His fucking cell phone data tracks at two p.m. Mike.”

“She’s calling from Singapore.”

“She’s - what? She lives in Boston.”

“Well the call came from Singapore, on her cell, at three in the goddamn morning.”

It’s fucking warm in Harvey’s office, the heat on full blast to combat the icy New England winter, and it’s so damn late that Mike doesn’t worry about taking off his button up. He’s got a tank underneath and it’s worth the ribbing he’ll endure just to feel like he can fucking breathe again - as much as he ever can these days, so he bites the bullet, unbuttoning swiftly without looking up from the file he’s devouring. There’s no way to ignore, though, the weight of Harvey’s eyes on him. 

Finally, Mike reaches a stopping point in the text and flicks his eyes up, smart ass defense fully loaded. 

It evaporates, because Harvey’s expression is a completely new one, and after years with this man, that’s interesting enough to take Mike’s mind off of even this. “Dude. Are you ok?”

“Are you?”

“I...think?” He’s confused. “Is it really that big a deal? No one’s here. I just thought -” 

Harvey stalking into his space cuts off the flow of oxygen to Mike’s brain so he lets the words go in favor of breathing as Harvey joins him on the worn leather. The sound of the record player spinning, needle long having drifted home, is the only anchor he can cling to as Harvey reaches out and runs a warm finger from the outer edge of Mike’s clavicle to the center of his throat.

“Harvey -” God, he _wants_.

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Nah, I’ve -”

“Shut up unless you’re going to tell me the truth.”

“Really? You never share shit, but I’m supposed to unload my life’s story the second you ask?” 

It's too much venom, he's going to get reamed, but Harvey just taps once more at his pulse then lets his knuckles wander down Mike's arm. “No. But you could. If you wanted.” 

The offer floors him - volunteering to carry some emotional baggage, but Harvey already does too much for him, has already risked everything. Mike’s teeth snap shut with a click. 

Harvey picks up his wrist, observes the delicate bones there, stroking an absent thumb over the veins near his palm before letting go to touch gentle fingertips to Mike’s orbital bone, and he hisses in a breath. 

“If I order pizza will you eat it?”

Mike nods slowly, more out of habit than anything, because his whole reality is consumed by Harvey’s nearness.

They’ve been distant, lately. It happens from time to time, usually in the midst of things going really well, so Mike’s learned to take their victories with a grain of salt. They’ll have a big win, grab a beer to celebrate, laugh until Mike aches, and then Harvey ignores him for a few days as if to reinforce the reality that Mike’s a shiny tool he enjoys showing off, but they’re not equals. 

To be fair, Mike occasionally instigates space as well, usually when he can’t tamp down his feelings efficiently, when the sheer want overwhelms him - not just the unanswered prayer to feel whole or the thought that something other than aching loneliness could sit behind his breastbone, but when he physically craves something he’ll never get.

Sex has never been a problem, but it’s no solution either. Fucking is the same as reading, a beautiful distraction, a means to an end, but it’s certainly not a cure. Sure, the thought of Harvey pounding him through the mattress has literally kept him up at night, but the image of pressing his face against Harvey’s neck, of feeling a body behind him, strong and warm and safe, is so poignantly enticing Mike has to avoid it all together.

So this, here, the gentlest of touches, is shaking him apart something awful, even worse in his current damaged-goods state. 

It’s a blessing, really, when Harvey moves away to place the order. 

Weird how it hurts.

\--

“Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend,” Mike chants, eyes marble-glazed, but Harvey’s smiling.

“Glad to see staying up all night hasn’t turned you into a complete idiot.”

“It was the boyfriend!”

“Try some new words.”

“Christ, Harvey. He’s a fucking mergers and acquisitions guy. It wasn’t the daughter calling from Singapore in the middle of the goddamn night, it was the boyfriend.”

“There’s no way to prove that.”

“Weird how his startup just acquired a fuckton of liquid capital, huh?”

“No way.”

“Way.”

“Their net worth hasn’t changed.”

“Quarter hasn’t rolled. It won’t show up until the new year.”

“Motherfucker,” Harvey breathes, double-checking the numbers Mike hands him, and then he grins up, blindingly lovely and Mike feels his heart clench. “You’re a fucking genius, Mike.”

He laughs to cover the squealing he’d rather be doing. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Have you seen your contract?”

“Touche.”

“Damn right. I’m calling Ray to take you home. And take the damn pizza with you. Eat it at some point.”

Mike shakes his head at his boss, grinning. “Harvey. Do you...give a shit about me?”

“Not in the slightest. Get your skinny ass out of my office.

“You love my ass.” It’s a comment born of exhaustion, but maybe Harvey’s missed some sleep lately too because he says, “No comment. Now, get.”

It’s something to keep him warm as he trudges up the stairs to his apartment.

5 days and counting.

\--

It gets worse as Christmas nears. Loneliness is cumulative and exponential and Mike’s fucking drowning in it.

For whatever reason, Harvey’s been having Mike do a lot of his clerical work in his office, and the holiday spirit seems to manifest as Harvey fucking always having food around. He’s also been cracking Mike up lately, and their banter is less strained, so maybe they're nearing the end of this rough patch. 

When Harvey thinks Mike isn’t looking, he stares - impassive, maybe, but warm and dark and thoughtful in a way Mike can feel like a second skin. It helps, strangely.

The day before, he loads himself with work. He antagonizes Louis into giving him a case, takes an assignment from an overworked associate, pulls out some older contracts he’s been meaning to rework - It should take him up until the morning of the twenty sixth but who’s to say, at this point. If he doesn’t sleep he could have it done by midday on Christmas. 

That night Harvey drags him to his office for dinner and prepping for a deposition. 

“Ooh, Thai.”

“So glad to see your priorities in line.” He’s actually smiling so Mike ignores the snark and stuffs a dumpling in his face.

They review the details of the case, poke around for some additional weaknesses, and Mike's typing up their questions when he realizes - “Fuck!”

“What?”

“I was supposed to finish that transcription of the witness statement from Louis’s case.”

“He won’t be back until the third. No rush.”

Mike shakes his head. “I told him - nevermind, it’s whatever, I can get it done tonight.” He’ll have plenty of time. “Ok, sorry, back on track. Do we want to ask about the niece or no?”

“Tonight?”

“Niece?” Mike repeats a little louder, concerned maybe Harvey’s going senile. 

“You’ll do Louis’s transcription tonight?”

“Or tomorrow,” he shrugs. “Can we get back to the depo?”

Harvey doesn’t answer for long enough that Mike looks up just in time to see storm clouds roll surprised across his face, then part in a look of sturdy resolution. Pieces falling into place. Mike wonders what problem Harvey just solved, and wishes it could be that easy for him.

\--

Harvey’s the one that fucks it up, honestly. They’re dropping him off first, then Ray’s taking Mike home, but when they pull up to the condo, Harvey yanks him out of the car.

“Harvey - what?”

The world is surreally ethereal, fat white puffs drifting down and settling on their shoulders and hair. The lights from the street are soft, and Harvey always looks good, but here he’s a fucking dream. He watches Mike for a long moment, holding him at arm's length, then reels him in. 

For a moment, Mike’s too surprised to understand, but he relaxes into the embrace. It’s sweet and rare, and Mike’s learned to savor these, hoard them for later. He exhales more tension than he’d been aware of holding at the feel of Harvey’s cheek against his own. A Christmas gift, just a taste, maybe enough to hold onto.

But then Harvey presses his lips to Mike’s temple, and Mike makes this raw, cramped sound into the front of Harvey’s peacoat. A warm hand comes up to cup the back of his head.

“Oh, kid,” Harvey says softly. 

Mike sniffs hard and tries to anticipate whatever jab is coming next. “What’re you gonna do with me, huh?” 

But Harvey just squeezes him a little tighter. “Idiot. That plan’s never changed. I'm gonna keep you.”

Mike breaks. 

The sob tears free of his throat in one long, agonized groan then shatters into fragments, heaving gasps that go on and on.

He barely remembers his first Christmas without his parents, but he’ll remember this, this first one without Gram.

He’s making a mess of Harvey’s coat, but when he tries to move, Harvey just slides his arms down to wrap around Mike’s waist instead. He doesn’t let go, not through what must end up being ten minutes of Mike sobbing himself dry. 

When the gulping hiccups start to even out and embarrassment tries to elbow its way in Harvey says, “You should stay.”

“Harvey,” Mike protests. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

He shrugs, sincere, if vaguely uncomfortable, and avoids eye contact to say, “What makes you think I’m doing it for you?” Mike opens his mouth and closes it. He wants to come up. He wants to stay. Forever, is the problem.

“Ok,” he whispers.

Harvey runs the water, leaves soft pj’s on the counter, and when Mike pads back out a half hour later he feels much more like a human being and much less like an angsty raisin. 

Harvey blindsides him. “You’re not the only guy alone on Christmas Eve.”

Mike gapes at him, shirtsleeves on his couch. “I -”

“Mike, what’s been going on with you?”

If his tears weren’t just now thawing from Harvey’s coat, he might’ve felt comfortable lying, but as it stands, Harvey’s opened his arms and door and Mike’s never been all that good at self control. He’s also not feeling terribly articulate though, so he sidles over and steals a drink from Harvey’s tumbler. 

The whiskey rolls over his tongue before he lets the words drop heavy and true into the glass. “I just get so fuckin’ lonely this time of year.”

Harvey inhales sharply, but his face remains smooth. “Why?” 

“They all died,” Mike laughs bitterly. “Or Trevor’s in jail, Jenny...I can’t...I just… Everyone’s so excited about seeing their family, and most of the time I can pretend but Grammy’s gone, and -” The tears are creeping back up. He sits down in an attempt to ground himself.

He’s expecting some run of the mill comfort, or Harvey’s special brand of distraction. He gets neither.

“I haven’t celebrated Christmas with someone else in years,” Harvey muses. 

“Why?”

Harvey observes him carefully. “I choose to be alone a lot of the time.”

“But not now,” Mike prods.

“No, not now.” Gentle.

“Why?”

Harvey shrugs. “I live this life on purpose. Doesn’t mean it isn’t goddamn lonely.”

Mike’s heart breaks for him, this man with everything, and he’s just as fucked as everyone else. 

“So I’m an exception?” he teases, trying to lighten the mood, but Harvey’s answer is dead serious. 

“To everything, kid.”

Creeping a cold hand up into Harvey’s palm seems like the right thing to do. It makes Harvey smile, and it gives him leverage to pull Mike down as he stretches out, lining their bodies up to curl around Mike protectively. He tugs a blanket from the arm of the couch, tosses it over them, and Mike feels himself melting immediately. It’s been so long since he’s slept through the night. 

He’s comforted, and endeared, and grateful, but it’s not until Harvey whispers, “Thank you,” that he’s completely undone. It’s a good thing he passes out. He’s not sure he’s hydrated enough for more tears.

\--

He wakes up in bed with a warm arm still slung around him, and he’s so fucking comfortable he can’t help but stretch like a cat, long and twisting, and then he remembers that the arm keeping him warm is Harvey’s.

He freezes, and if the quieting of Harvey’s breath is any indication, they’re both up now.

“This isn’t just...like...Christmas kindness, right?”

“What?”

“You’re not just...being nice?” 

Harvey sounds amused as he rocks forward enough for Mike to feel an emphatic case of morning wood. “Do I feel nice to you right now, Mike?”

He groans. “Yeah. You kinda do.”

For once, Harvey doesn’t leave him hanging or try to play coy. He flips Mike around abruptly so they’re face to face and Mike gasps halfway through the first word out of Harvey’s mouth and he has to change tack. “What?”

“You’re so fucking gorgeous it’s offensive.”

Harvey beams, wide and honest. “Back at you, you distracting fucker. And no, I’m not just being nice.”

Mike fidgets with the bedspread. “And this isn’t just a one time thing.”

“No.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you could have anyone, you know?”

“Mike. Not looking for anyone.”

“I just don’t want you to feel obligated, or -

Harvey gets out of bed.

“Wait - what - I’m -”

“Shut up, Rookie,” he calls from the closet. He returns moments later with a gift wrapped in carefully creased blue paper. 

“Oh, hey! Is that for me?”

“Sure is, Nancy Drew.”

“You’re an ass,” he mumbles. “I got you something too. In my bag on the couch.”

“Later,” Harvey murmurs as Mike tears into it. “This is important.”

It’s a tie. Mike quirks a smile. 

"For you."

“I know you hate my skinny ties but -”

“When you asked. If I’m sure. It was my dad’s.” Mike’s mouth falls open. “Hope that answers your question.”

“Harvey -” 

He gives up on words, and kisses Harvey instead.

Mike kisses him like he means it, like he knows how lucky they are. Straddles Harvey's hips and sinks into him completely and Harvey melts backwards, taking his weight, holding him dear and precious and close and chasing Mike’s mouth until they can’t breathe.

After, when they’ve had a cup of coffee and crawled back into bed, Mike has his face pressed into Harvey’s throat, feeling whole and home for the first time in ages he can’t help but tease, “Didn’t take you for a cuddler.” He’s not really complaining, it's pure comfort.

“I’m not. Usually. But I told you, Mike. You’re the exception.”

Ah. Yes.

There’s the joy.

**Author's Note:**

> Been working on some Marvey (I've got like 4 in progress, god help me) so if that's ur jam, stick around.  
> Still working on Stucky, too, if you're here for that and stayed for some new faces - I have not abandoned them. Just adding to my (already stupidly full) fandom plate.
> 
> Happy Holidays!
> 
> Come visit me at seasless.tumblr.com


End file.
